


Zero

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorder, Gen, anorexic!brian, orthorexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…For my life still ahead, pity me…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24Again.1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24One more time. So you remember how you fucked up.1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24





	Zero

**Author's Note:**

> My main account is Disabled-Queen-HC on Tumblr  
> Anon asked: I haven't seen an ED hc on here yet and I need to project a bit so here's this: at the begging all the queen boys were skinny as hell but as time went on the only one who remained that way was brian. and everyone assumed that it was all natural. what they didn't know was that brian consciously started eating less when he got to the age where people's metabolism usually slows down. he was well aware that his skinniness was part of his trademark look and decided he needed to keep it that wayhe started cutting down the amount and frequency of his meals but the others never noticed - brian had always been peculiar with food (not eating meat or unhealthy things etc.) so they assumed he ate at home whenever he refused the takeout they had in the studio. in the mid 80s they slowly start noticing that brian’s no longer just skinny, but also sickly looking but still don’t say anything, assuming he might have a stomach bug going on (touring can bring that on quite easily after all) then, a couple of months later, brian passes out in the studio and the boys finally connect the dots. they feel incredibly guilty for not noticing the signs and are determined to help brian recover. //if you could please write something where the boys realise all this had been going on without them noticing and then try to figure out how to help brian out of this mess while he refuses to believe that he needs help at all (can be gen or you can add a ship if you’d like)

_All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…_

_For my life still ahead, pity me…_

_♚_

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

_Again._

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

_One more time. So you remember how you fucked up._

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

24 ribs sticking out from grey ashen skin.

Brian’s bony finger traced over each one as he counted out loud, eyes focused on the full body mirror in front of him.

_You remember how handsome you used to be? Remember when they jutted out like a fucking Greek god? But you ruined it. You ate that chocolate cupcake like the pig you are and now you’re fat again. Fat and disgusting._

“One, two, three, four, five…”

_It doesn’t matter if you cry about it. It won’t make you any skinnier. Put on your running shoes, fat ass._

“Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

_RUN!_

Brian wiped his face free of the tears, eye’s falling down to his bare feet. Skeletal but most people’s standards but bloated looking to him. He had blisters on his heels from running a mile every morning, but it didn’t matter. Pain was beauty, right?

♚

Of all the numbers,  _zero is the most beautiful_. Brian thought that to himself as he ran around his neighborhood, the sun dipping in the sky, crickets already chirping.

His knees hurt so bad, his chest was on fire and he was sure his blisters had reopened, but he had done this to himself. If he only ate things that were good, he wouldn’t have to run this second mile. If he just stopped inhaling anything that came into sight, he could be home right now, settling into a night’s rest.

But he was out here. In the cold English sunset, wearing layers of jogging clothes to try and keep warm. He deserved this. Brian deserved this.

The day he hit his goal weight, he’d never have to do this again. He’d be doing zero laps.

♚

It was nearly midnight before he tempted to step on the scale.

The bathroom was so dark. Only trickles of moonlight poured in from the window. He refused to turn on the lights since he weighed himself naked. Having to see his bare body was revolting. There was so much wrong with it. His legs were too chubby. His stomach so round. His cheeks akin to a hamster. It was better in the dark.

The cold metal of the scale sent a shiver up his body as he stepped onto it. He had to squint to see the number, but he was sure it had gone up since this morning. That fucking cupcake.

8 stone.

Tears pricked his eyes. The number had gone down. Why was he still so big?

So big.

Who could like someone so  _grotesque_ as him? With so much  _skin_? With so much  _fat_?

Brian hugged himself, elbows tucking into his concave stomach.

He was  _disgusting_.

♚

“You’re drinking your coffee black, Bri?” Roger asked, nose scrunched up as he peered into Brian’s coffee mug. Brian pulled the mug closer to him defensively but smiled and lolled his head as if nothing was wrong.

“You know I don’t drink milk, mate,” Brian said, taking a sip of the acrid brew, forcing his brow to stay unfurrowed.

“Since when? Thought you were vegetarian, not one of those weird animal hippies,” Roger said eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’ve decided through research that the milk industry exploits cows. Did you know that mother cows and their c-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least put a sugar or two in there, you mad man,” Roger said with the wave of his hand, Brian’s plan at boring him with animal ethics having worked.

Brian smiled to himself, taking another sip. Roger was out of his mind if he thought he’d ever put sugar in anything he ate. Might as well eat straight  _fat_. At least his little plan worked.

♚

“Brian, sweetheart, you look absolutely pale! Have you caught a cold?” Freddie said, a hand pressing against Brian’s clammy forehead. Brian ducked away from the touch, laughing nonchalantly as he did.

“Perhaps? I feel, uh, fine. Maybe I’m just low in something,” he said as convincingly as possible. His fingers started to twiddle with the sleeves of his shirt that was far too big.

Freddie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but he nodded.

“Well, you better rest up. Can’t have our main guy developing an ailment before our show tomorrow, huh?” Freddie said, a hand straying onto Brian’s bony shoulder. The touch made him erupt into goosebumps.

Did he know?

_Does it matter?_

♚

“Brian, we need to talk,” John said, his grey eyes big and stormy.

His gut dropped to the floor, heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. Was the gig up?

Brian wouldn’t go without a fight.

“What about?” he said casually, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back on the couch backstage.

John sat down next to him, uncomfortably close. Brian didn’t like people touching him. It made it all the harder to hide.

John looked around to see if anyone was around before he leaned and whispered, “The crowds really big tonight. I, um, I’m kinda nervous,”

Oh sweet jesus. Thank god. Thank god.

The anxiety melted from Brian, a small smile growing on his face.

“John, how old are you? You silly man,” He said jokingly before pulling John in for a hug.

The bassist grew rigid, not reciprocating. It’d only been a second, but the atmosphere grew bleak and heavy. John pulled away, face tightened in fear. He looked over Brian for a second before he left in a hurry without so much as a word.

Did he feel how  ~~skinny~~ fat Brian was?

_Who cares?_

♚

_Just because you finished a successful tour does not mean you get to pig out. Look at all this food. It’s disgusting. Unhealthy. Do you want to be fat? Don’t you want to be the skinny boy everyone knows and loves?_

But I’m so hungry…

_Hunger is good. Hunger means you’re strong. Hunger means you’re beautiful. Hunger means you’re worth something._

I don’t feel good.

_You won’t feel good if you get fat. If you **stay** fat._

I really don’t feel good.

_Put that carrot down. Do you know how much sugar carrots have? Do you want to poison your body with **junk**?_

I think I’m gonna…

The after party for The Game fell silent. They’d all been drinking, laughing, eating and a few other illegal activities when they heard a thud. Hundred of eyes searched the room for the source of the noise until someone spotted a collapsed Brian by the single veggie plate in the corner of the room.

Flurries of bodies and voices, yells and whispers erupted, some rushing to the phone, some running over to Brian.

Roger, Freddie and John surrounded their guitarist, panic fueling their every move.

“He’s bloody cold! Has someone called 999?” Roger shouted, rolling Brian over so he was on his back. It was a frighteningly easy task to do, the guy being light as a feather.

“Brian, sweetie, wake up please. Help is on the way, love. Stay with us, please,” Freddie pleaded, eyes misty as he held Brian’s hand between his own, hoping to warm it up some.

John just stood next to the three, mouth and tongue seized, body trembling uncontrollably.

_This is good. This is really good. Maybe soon you’ll be nothing. Zero. A beautiful number. A beautiful state to be in._

♚

“…He was in fucking heart failure…”

“…electrolytes too low…”

“…emaciated…”

“…bone’s of a 60 year old…”

“And if he had died?”

“…you never said anything!”

“…was I supposed to know what this was?”

“He’s alive no thanks to any of you…”

♚

Brian’s eyes opened sluggishly, the only thing he could seeing being an intense white light.

Was this it? Was he in heaven? Was all of this finally over? The pain and the cold and the empty stomachs and the migraines? Was that all gone now?

“He’s awake,” a mousy voice said.

Brian’s vision cleared, revealing a white ceiling.

So he wasn’t dead.

He looked in the direction the voice came, shivering when he saw it was John. His face was so swollen and so red from crying. It looked like he’d done a week’s worth. When their eyes met, John let out a heart shattering sob, burying his face into Brian’s bed sheets. They were soaked.

Why was John crying so hard? He just passed out was all. Nothing to be bent over.

His eyes scanned the room for other faces.

He found Roger’s. His eye bags were unprecedented. His hair mused like he’d been trying to pull it out. Roger shrunk back into his chair, looking down at his shoes instead.

He didn’t have to look for Freddie.

Freddie walked up to Brian’s bed, his face untelling. He looked at Brian’s IV, which he just now noticed he had before he opened his mouth to speak. He faltered for a moment but spoke.

“Brian, I am so, so sorry,” he said, voice cracking, throat dry. He reached for Brian’s hand, but Brian pulled away, shaking his head.

“For what, Fred? I just passed out! It’s no one’s fault,” he said incredulously. They all looked like train wrecks for a simple blackout?

Freddie recoiled at Brian’s words before he softened again. His eyes parted from Brian’s, licking his lips. Why didn’t anyone want to look at him?

“Brian…you didn’t pass out. You went into heart failure. You were in the ICU for 3 weeks in a coma. It…they had to use the electric paddles on you on two separate occasions,” his voice grew thick, obviously trying to push away the urge to cry and scream.

“They thought you weren’t going to make it,” Freddie mouthed, his shoulders caving in as a few tears escaped down his cheeks.

Brian blinked before finally look down at himself.

Various bruises on his arm from different IV’s and blood draws Burn marks on his chest. And a line running down his chest, all stitched and taped up.

A number 1, almost.

_Not a zero._

He looked up to Freddie, jaw hanging.

“You needed a bypass, Bri,” Freddie said, a nervous hand rubbing his neck.

“W-Why?” Brian choked out, his mind having gone blank.

Roger snorted from across the room. “You know why,” he said bitterly.

And it was true. Brian knew why.

The room was quiet except for Deacy’s muffled sobs.

“I…I…the…I..can’t  **bloody** think with your crying, John!” Brian snapped. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t. This..illness made him do horrible things. Nasty things.

John responded by growing smaller although his crying didn’t. Freddie wanted to bark back, but this wasn’t right. None of it was. Instead, he grabbed John and left the room. Roger was the only one who could talk to Brian about serious stuff anyways.

Brian gulped when the door slammed behind the two. Now it was just him and R-

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Roger asked, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was no malice in his voice. Just a simple question.

“I..didn’t think anything was wrong,” Brian said, which was the truth.

This, whatever it was, made the world split in two. Reality and what went on his brain both felt real. He knew he was sick, but he wasn’t. He knew he was skinny but he wasn’t. He knew he was dying but he wasn’t. It was hard to know the truth sometimes. All the times. It was hard to reach out when everything felt both okay and crumbling. Which was the true one?

Roger let out a puff of air from his nose, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for sleep. In times of crisis, he seemed to be the only one capable of keeping their wits about, so he’d been on babysitting duty for nearly a month. He wanted his bed so bad.

He wanted his best friend too.

“That’s fair,” he said with a sigh. There was another silence between them before Roger got up and padded over to Brian’s bed side. He plopped himself onto the uncomfortably wet sheets but paid them no mind, instead looking at the skeleton before him.

“We’re all really sorry, Brian. None of us knew you were fighting a battle alone. We just thought…I don’t know what we were thinking. But we thought you had a handle on whatever you were doing and that was wrong of us to just assume,”

“You needed us and we weren’t there. There’s only so much we can do about the past though, right? But we’re gonna be here for you from now on. When they send you to the psych w-“

“Psych ward?” Brian spat out, sitting up straighter in bed.

That’s where crazy people go.  _I’m_ not crazy. I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t belong there. They’ll make me eat. They’ll make me gain weight.

Roger just took in Brian’s anxiety, an uncharacteristically gentle hand laying onto Brian’s bandaged chest.

With the sincerity and sweetness of a mother, Roger said, “We almost lost you Brian. We almost had to bury you. We’re not going to let that happen again. You’re not going to leave us like that,”

Brian laid back against the bed, his only veiny and pale hand going over Roger’s.

Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense. Nothing was good. But he knew he could trust Roger. That infernal voice buzzing in his head might have been his constant companion, but Roger was his best friend. And best friends don’t lie.

Brian blinked away a few tears, his whole body tired, in pain and in a mental tug of war, but he said, “Okay,” Roger collapsed for the first time in weeks.

♚

John held onto Brian so tight, his face buried into his neck. He would prefer to never let go, but he knew he had to soon.

“Brian, I lo- you’re my best friend, okay? Get better?” he said before letting go. Brian smiled, patting his back.

Freddie came in for a hug next, melting into Brian’s embrace.

“I need my guitarist back. My soul brother,” Freddie said, kissing Brian’s cheek.

Lastly was Roger who just held out his hand for a shake. A firm one.

“See you soon, mate.”

Brian looked at all of them, taking in their faces before he had to go. Wheeled out from the hospital and into the van that’d be taking him to the psychiatric ward.

The future ahead was scary and unknown, but he wanted to charge ahead. He wanted to live. For his friends, his family and most importantly, himself. He wanted to play guitar and sing and eat and never worry again.

All he wanted was to be four again.

Not zero.

 _Never zero_.

♚

_Take heart my friend we love you_

_Though it seems like you’re alone_

_A million light’s above you_

_Smile down upon your home_


End file.
